"There's nothing sweeter than my baby, I never want once from the cherry tree, cause my baby's sweet as can be, she gives me toothaches just from kissing me." - Work Song, Hozier
A tall, slender, 6'5" man born and raised in Dublin, Ireland, the same man who contributed to the rising popularity of “manbuns” and the blending of blues/folk/pop music, appeared on stage encouraging a tremendously loud roar from the crowd. The stereotypical Irish appearance was apparent on him. His pale, creamy, slightly freckled skin contrasted with the black fabric covering the back of the stage. His unruly, curly brown, with a hint of orange, hair was tied back in a bun, despite his short locks. This is his signature look. A single, even shorter strand of naturally curled hair framed the right side of his face, showing off his structurally chiseled jaw. This same hair, stereotypically rough and winery for Irish individuals, formed a slight stubble that framed his long face, adding to the rustically rugged look. Classic black Ray-Ban's hung on the bridge of his nose, shielding the green eyes that mirror the lush rolling hills of his home country. His lack of knowledge about the outdoor humidity was apparent in the way he dressed; black jeans covered his long and lanky legs, a cream button down shirt was layered over a black t-shirt, and a pair of worn-out, fading black boots supported his feet. He looked ruggedly handsome, perfect--dare I say, a style that seemed near impossible to pull off in this summer heat.
Humble. Genuine. Interested. Invested. Clearly responsive in the current worldly events, his songs metaphorically portray his feelings. "Take Me To Church," a song sexualized by the pop culture community, is actually written with regards to the Church's strict stances on many ideas. If you listen closely "In A Week" is about a specific place in Ireland where people go to commit suicide, yet that is covered up as you are taken away by the beautiful melody that plays in the background. Immediately after each song he mumbles a quiet "Thank you," almost as if he feels small and unnatural as he stands in front of a crowd of thousands. Fame has not gotten to him, he still stays grounded, humble, and appreciative, even listing off the full names of each and every single crew member that took part in the setup and continuation of the concert.
He leans into the microphone, his distinct Irish accent ringing through the ears of the fans, saying “Everyone out in the field…is it still coming down out there?” His bony hand reached for the cream mug attached in a holder conveniently placed in the middle of his microphone. Steam rises from what I presume is some bitter, black Irish tea. He takes a sip of his scolding hot tea from a mug, amazement and wonder etched out on his perfect face as he looks into the crowd. The rain is audible to everyone but him, providing the perfect ambiance as his velvety voice serenades the fans, but his in-ears create a barrier to the surrounding sound. He is, however, able to hear the continuous screams from the crowd, answering his question with an enthusiastic “Yes! You all are absolute troopers” he pushes forward, hoping to encourage the crowd to stay and listen to his entire set. Even after the hours of rain, his overabundance of “thank you” after each song, and a crowd of hoarse voices after singing poetic song lyrics back to the artist, the fans have not gone anywhere.
